


Masterpiece Theatre

by RueRambunctious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: (Like only a little bit), Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Knifeplay, M/M, Music, Photography, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Fix-It, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: Jim had promised to kill Sebastian's father, so Sebastian is in a strange place when after Jim's death Sebastian is called home to babysit his suddenly orphaned youngest sibling Jasper.Of course, Sebastian should know by now that you can't kill love, and you can't kill the devil.Although he might smash up that album Jasper keeps playing.





	1. Chapter 1

Sebastian has not taken Jim's death well. He has tried to keep the empire from crumbling, but it is slowly being dismantled and he isn't entirely certain it is worth the fight to stay in a building that no longer smells like Jim.

He can't help looking for signs that the psychotic runt is still around, even though Sebastian has seen the body, perfect right down to Sebastian's initials carved into Jim's cold skin, except for the mess that had once been the most brilliant mind Sebastian has ever known.

It twists Sebastian's stomach something awful when Augustus Moran dies. Not because Sebastian has even a sliver of affection for the toxic monster, but because it almost feels like a gift from beyond the grave. Jim had promised he would kill Sebastian's father.

And now he's dead.

But Jim's dead, and how can Sebastian enjoy anything without Jim?

All the same, Sebastian nurses the bittersweet ache in his chest, because it's all he has left to keep him warm.

It perhaps shouldn't have come as a surprise, but Sebastian's mother takes the opportunity to get as far away from the family home as possible. She has little feeling for the youngest Moran heir, Jasper, confirming Sebastian's suspicion that the only dark-haired Moran boy is yet another half-sibling, merely granted the dubious honour of being brought up in the manor.

Somehow, with Mrs Moran 'travelling' indefinitely, it falls to Sebastian to babysit Jasper. Gus is sticking to her feud with the family, Rawdon is long dead, Christabelle is God knows where, and Severin is still deployed in some dusty hellhole.

Which means Sebastian is traded one haunted home for another.

The Moran mansion is as big as Sebastian remembers, with an opulent, oppressive air that instantly makes him feels uncomfortable.

Sebastian has not been here since his father disowned him. The unpleasant memories make the blond instinctively stand straighter and smooth his hair, so conscious of never quite being right, always being rebuked for something ridiculous.

Sebastian feels utterly alienated as he rings the bell to his own front door. He'd had his 'key privileges' revoked years ago but it is still yet another reminder of how much he does not belong here.

His bag cuts into his shoulder a little as Sebastian waits. The bag is worn from jetting here and there for work, but there isn't much in it. Some clothes and a few weapons. A toothbrush.

The last teeshirt Jim slept in, although the scent is long gone.

Jasper is fairly quick to answer the door despite his home's size. He is all coltish limbs and large hands and feet and big, bright eyes like a spaniel, too much energy to be contained in one form.

“Seb,” Jasper blurts, and then he's jumping forwards, wrapping his skinny arms around Sebastian's thick neck, and Sebastian cannot remember the last time someone touched him like this. He holds the kid tight, as though it's not been more than a decade since they last saw each other and they're still close.

“I'm glad you're back,” Jasper says sincerely.

Sebastian rubs a large, calloused hand through the teen's dark, shining curls. They're warm to the touch. It's disconcerting to have been missed.

And tiny Jasper's gotten so _big_.

“It's good to see you, Runt,” Sebastian responds.

Jasper's lips twitch and he stretches out to his impressive height. “Not much of a runt anymore. Think I've caught up with you.”

Sebastian scoffs fondly. “Look at these skinny arms. Where's the rest of you?”

Jasper squirms comfortably at the touch. “I ate it. Waiting for someone to feed me.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Is Mum still employing staff?”

Jasper pouts. “Only to keep the place clean, because she doesn't trust me. But the entire kitchen staff are gone. Despite me barely knowing how to use a microwave myself.”

“Have you eaten?” Sebastian asks.

Jasper snorts. “No.”

“Food first then. You're narrower than a paper cut,” Sebastian decides, dropping his bag at the door (because who's left to tell him off for it?). He leads through to the kitchen to wash his hands and check the cupboards. Jasper follows with a bounce to his ungainly steps.

“Do you still eat pasta?” Sebastian asks, peering into the tiny writing on a jar of sauce. (Since when did they stock premade food?)

“The gluten free stuff,” Jasper responds, pointing at a row of large glass jars.

Sebastian raises his brows. “Which would that be?”

“Any of the stuff to the right. The rest is Father's. Was.”

“Miss him?” Sebastian asks carefully, setting about preparing the quick meal.

Jasper makes a disparaging noise. “Like I'd miss a hole in the h… Um, no. I don't miss him.”

Sebastian swallows, but smooths his expression. “It's okay to miss him, you know. He might have been a total cunt but he was still your dad.”

Jasper fixes his older brother with a look. “Do _you_ miss Father?” he asks pointedly.

“Rather chew my own arm off than be in a room with that prick,” Sebastian admits.

“Exactly,” Jasper says shortly. He clambers off the stool he had perched on and ambles over to a phone dock on the counter.

Sebastian rolls his eyes at the resulting youthful, poppy song from some obnoxious hit film aimed at Jasper's generation.

Jasper pulls himself onto the counter. “Do you mind? Being here?”

Sebastian shrugs. “Better company than I'm used to, this time around.”

Jasper smiles. He eases a half-cooked pasta shell out of the boiling water with an expensive utensil and nibbles it absently.

“It's been lonely,” the dark—haired teen says after a beat.

Sebastian looks around. He tries to crack a smile. “Well I'm here now, Kid.”

Jasper nods. “I'm glad.”

“An empty room, I'm empty too, And everything reminds me of you, So many things, I shouldn't have missed-”

Sebastian freezes at the song.

“Switch that off,” he says darkly.

Jasper skips the song obediently. He says nothing as Sebastian takes a moment to clear his head then Jasper hands over a spoon to stir the pot with.

“So are you still at school? Uni?” Sebastian asks.

A mischievous look creeps across Jasper's face. “Cambridge. It might have done the old man in with the shame.”

Sebastian barks out a laugh, his loyalty to Oxford far less than his loyalty to displeasing his father. “Good for you, Runt.”

Jasper grins. “He was fucking furious and there was nothing he could do, because I already had my tuition fees squirreled away.”

“I'm surprised he didn't disown you,” Sebastian says.

“He seemed to realise he was running low on heirs,” Jasper says flippantly. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Sebastian snorts. “Trust me, you're welcome to anything you stuck this place out for.”

“He wrote you back into the will, did you know?” Jasper comments.

Sebastian looks around quickly. “He what?”

“Mm, right before it happened,” Jasper says. “Mum's left you a letter about it somewhere. The study I think.”

“Had he gone senile?” Sebastian asks.

Jasper shrugs. “It seemed pretty out of character. Maybe he was just better at hiding his non-violent feelings than we gave him credit for.”

Sebastian grunts. “Would take more than that to convince me he had any.”

“Me too,” Jasper says.

Music drifts between them in the quiet.

“Careful, follow my instruction, And I will show you self destruction, This masterpiece is only mine, Entirely guilty by design.” 

Jarring. Bloody everything reminds Sebastian of Jim. The blond grimaces and strains the pasta loudly.

Jasper fetches cutlery and a bottle of Sicilian red.

Oh yeah. Jasper's about old enough to drink now. Weird.

“Did you say please just follow me? I thought you wanted me. 'Cause I want you all to myself. I can try to suck it up; I just can't suck it up. Make me feel like something else.”

The music is bloody distracting. Sebastian cannot concentrate.

Jasper obliviously pulls down two crystal goblets.

Jim's trained Sebastian to notice music. It's a tell of his moods, of his plans. It's excruciating. All the same, Sebastian frowns and skips back to the start of the song.

I don't patronize, I realize  
I'm losing and this is my real life.  
I am half asleep, and I am wide awake.  
This habit is always so hard to break.

I don't want to be the bad guy,  
I've been blaming myself and I think you know why.  
I'm killing time, and time's killing you  
Every way that I do.

Did you say "please just follow me?"  
I thought you wanted me.  
Cause I want you all to myself.  
I can try to suck it up,  
I just can't suck it up.  
Make me feel like some one else

Please just follow me.  
I thought you wanted me.  
Cause I want you all to myself.  
I can try to suck it up,  
I just can't suck it up.  
Make me feel like some one else

I'm under the gun, you're like the only one.  
I just can't decide what I'm running from.  
This isn't what I wanted, but  
I can't keep my filthy fucking mouth shut.

It's not enough, it's never enough.  
I wish I could breathe without getting it stuck.  
Can't focus it, but I try it  
over and over again.

Na na, na na, na.  
Na na, na na, na na.  
Na na, na na, na.  
Na na, na na, na na.

Please just follow me?  
I thought you wanted me,  
Cause I want you all to myself.  
I can try and suck it up,  
I just can't suck it up.  
Make me feel like...

Did you say "Please just follow me"?  
I thought you wanted me,  
Cause I can't stay with someone else,  
I'll try and suck it up,  
I just can't fuck it up,  
I want you all to myself.

Did you say "Please just follow me"?  
I thought you wanted me,  
Cause I want you all to myself.  
I can try and suck it up,  
I just can't suck it up.  
Make me feel like someone else.

Na na, na na, na.

 

Sebastian closes his eyes and dishes up. Jasper's going to have to prattle non-stop if Sebastian's going to have any chance of pushing Jim out of his head for more than a second.

Sebastian tops up the respectable amount of wine Jasper had poured and downs it without waiting to let it breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian's used to either tuning out obnoxious music or using it to determine Jim's mood. It hadn't made much difference living alone in _their_ home, but living with Jasper seems to be an entirely different thing.

Apparently Jasper cannot do anything without background music, and he prattles on educating Sebastian about why bands like Finger Eleven and Evans Blue matter to a rich, white, too young English boy with perfect skin and beautiful hair. Sebastian finds himself listening to the tirade, not to mock the kid, but because he actually cares about what enthuses his baby brother.

Who is evidently still a kid, but has grown up so much.

Jasper eventually stops yapping, and Sebastian listens to the shuffled music. The blond can pick out the odd artist now – Melanie Martinez and Halsey and a girl called Lord for some reason- but a lot of it washes over Sebastian. 

He bites his lips as he hears another one of those self pitying songs start. 

So here's another day  
I'll spend away from you  
Another night I'm on another broken avenue

He doesn't need the encouragement. Sebastian tries to tune it out.

My bag is ripped and worn  
Then again now so am I  
Take what you want to take  
What you wanna take  
What you-

Sebastian blinks. His bag is indeed worn, and so is his very soul. And fuck, he'd let Jim take anything if he would just come back.

I miss the stupid things  
We'd go to sleep and then  
You'd wake me up and kick me out of bed at 3 AM

Sebastian presses his calloused fingers into his worn denims. Yeah, he does miss the stupid things. Every damn thing. Including Jim's fucking ridiculous moods, as he kicked Sebastian out of bed at 3am, or 4am, or 5am…

Pick up the phone and hear you saying dirty things to me  
Do what you wanna do  
What you wanna do  
What you-

No. Let's not even go there. Absolutely no good will come of remembering Jim's wicked purr on the end of the phone.

Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me home  
I don't wanna be alone tonight

Fuck. And now Sebastian's insides hurt, and how could this song possibly mean anything to Jasper? He hasn't lost…

And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you till I  
Can't stand on my own anymore

Right, stop it. Stop listening, Moran.

I cross my heart and hope to die  
Cross my heart and hope to die  
Cross my heart and hope to.

Definitely not helpful to remind himself that he might as well be dead without Jim.

Hotels are all the same  
You're still away from me  
Another day  
Another dollar that I'll never see

Christ, how many hotels had Jim sent Sebastian to, working on jobs? He'd missed the little fucker then and hadn't realised at all how much that pain would grow and consume once Jim…

Stop it.

Not that Sebastian had ever bothered about the money side. He'd seen more money since…

Nope. Nope stop.

Gonna get the pieces  
The pieces  
Pieces of something good  
Lie just a little lie  
Just a little lie  
Just a-

Yeah, no. Stop thinking about scooping up Jim's brains. Just stop it.

Fuck Sebastian wishes it was a lie.

I wonder what you're doing  
I wonder if you doubt it  
I wonder how we used to ever go so long without it

No. Just don't think. It's not healthy, it… it fucking hurts.

I don't know where to go  
I'm going back to you  
Be where I ought to be  
Where I ought to be  
Where I-

Fucking. Stop. It. Moran.

Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me home  
I don't wanna be alone tonight

Sebastian closes his eyes.

And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you till I  
Can't stand on my own anymore  
I cross my heart and hope to die

Nope. Sebastian breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me with you  
I start to miss you

Seriously? Fuck off with this.

Take me _home_  
I don't wanna be alone tonight

Sebastian presses his lips together.

And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you till I  
Can't stand on my own anymore  
I cross my heart and hope to die

And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you till I  
Can't stand on my own anymore  
I cross my heart and hope to die

And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you till I  
Can't stand on my own anymore  
I cross my heart and hope to die

And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you till I  
Can't stand on my own anymore  
I cross my heart and hope to die

Sebastian sighs. He feels like he might be sick. But he skips the song back to the start anyway.

And again.

Jasper glances up from Facebook. “Convert, are you?”

Sebastian grunts. The song has punched him in the gut. And knocked him to the floor and kicked him in the teeth.

“I can loan you the CD if you want,” Jasper offers. “I've already got the album on my phone so it's not like I'll need it.”

Sebastian should absolutely say no, but punishing himself with memories of Jim is all he has left.

“What are you doing with a CD?” Sebastian scoffs. “Aren't your generation all about your digital downloads?”

Jasper bares his teeth. “I'm a special snowflake, don't you know?”

Sebastian smiles without fully understanding why. Probably just grateful to have some semblance of company.

Jim was all the family Sebastian had relied on in forever.

Jasper leads Sebastian upstairs and fetches a CD: Masterpiece Theatre.

“Fallout's on another album by the way,” the dark-haired teen adds. “The one you don't like.”

Sebastian accepts the CD and carrying it wistfully he disappears into his own bedroom. Setting it in the player, Sebastian searches his room for any remaining weapons and sets to cleaning them along with those he has brought.

The evening goes quietly until Sebastian notices a slight intruder attempting to gain access to the house.

Fired up, Sebastian goes after the black shape, climbing out of his window like he's a teenager again.

Following the intruder, Sebastian grabs their shoulder, spinning them around and very much enjoying punching them hard in the face.

The pained noise is surprisingly… high pitched.

“The fuck?” protests a decidedly nasal, clearly female, very young voice.

Sebastian blinks, and glances around as Jasper throws open his bedroom window.

The curly haired boy looks between the intruder and his big brother. He gives Sebastian an incredulous look.

“Did you just take down my baby-faced friend?”

“Your bleeding faced friend,” the kid grumbles.

Sebastian steps carefully along the roof and offers her his hand.

“Give me a minute,” she says thickly, then without fuss repositions her crushed nose.

Sebastian blinks at her, his hand closing automatically around her tiny, bloodied one as she reaches out for help getting to her feet.

“Think you broke it you fucker,” she mumbles without much venom, leading Sebastian to Jasper's window and climbing inside.

She crosses quickly to a mirror then curses. Complaining a little that she has a shoot soon, the girl prods her sore face and supposes aloud that make-up will hide a lot and the swelling can be edited out in post.

Sebastian follows through the window.

“Never mind that; _we're_ supposed to be shooting tomorrow, Rowan,” Jasper says, using the excuse of the girl's sore face to touch her in pretense of examining the injury.

Rowan rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but the fucked up things you like taking pictures of lend themselves fine to my smashed face.”

Sebastian looks between the pair and he feels a kick to his gut that has nothing to do with jealousy or missing Jim.

She looks… like… twelve. Sebastian isn't good at guessing young girl's ages, but… the girl is young.

Sebastian is horrified by Rowan's estimated age and steps forward, tugging on Jasper's arm as he takes the bigger teen aside, concerned his little brother has developed their father's tastes. 

Jasper is amused, giving Sebastian a look that makes the blond want to hit him.

“Ro, show my big brother your ID will you?”

Rowan makes a face. “What, so he can follow me home and make me even less photogenic?” However, she reaches into the back pocket of her skinny jeans and pulls out a provisional license.

Sebastian takes the piece of pastel green card skeptically, and frowns at it. “Where did you get a fake like this?”

Rowan chuckles bitterly. “It's real. I'm actually a lot older than Jasp.”

Sebastian presses his lips together but hands back the provisional. “Was there a reason why you didn't use the front door?”

“Habit,” Rowan shrugs. “Didn't expect an ex-soldier to punch me on a rooftop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is 'Cross My Heart' and belongs to Marianas Trench.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian is vaguely surprised to find Jasper has set up the library like a studio space, with various lights and diffusers and thick black cables everywhere.

“Your taste in music is tragic,” Sebastian comments.

Jasper looks around and grins. “You always said that, and yet you seem to play this album all night long.”

Sebastian makes a face. “I'm grieving; what's your excuse?”

Jasper bats his hand towards the chaise lounge. “Atmosphere.” 

Sebastian brushes his gaze over Rowan, who beams mischievously at them over an array of books. She is almost spilling out of a steampunk style corset (Sebastian wonders how he even knows that, bloody Jasper) and a rather interesting scar is apparent across her shoulder and under her arm.

Rowan catches the direction of Sebastian's gaze. “It photoshops out easily enough, but it usually gets kept in for 'character'.”

“I think it's gorgeous,” Jasper comments, turning absently to swap over expensive camera lenses. 

Rowan purses her lips. “You would, Porcelain; you have no idea how much it hurt to get.”

Jasper looks around so she can see him roll his eyes. “Is it my fault I was the favourite child?”

Rowan snorts, kicking at her long skirts to get comfortable. “No accounting for taste.”

Jasper takes a test shot, frowns thoughtfully at the laptop connected to the camera, then steps over to adjust the lighting. “You know fine well that you adore me.”

“I think you mistake my tolerant personality,” Rowan drawls.

“Ha!” Jasper retorts. “I have bruises which disprove your supposed 'tolerance.'”

“Everyone has limits,” Rowan says in a sing song voice that reminds Sebastian with a lurch of Jim.

Jasper steps past the lights and tilts Rowan's chin, then slides her leg a little to expose the decorative buttons of her boot.

He returns to the camera.

Rowan glances at Sebastian without moving her head. “You might as well take a seat; he takes forever.”

“Is there something you'd rather do?” Jasper drawls.

Rowan smirks and there is a small flash of orange light. “No.” A significant flash of white.

Jasper glances at the image captured. Rowan's lips are still but amused. Teasing. “Good.”

Sebastian sits down and watches with mild interest.

The music is painful. 

When your tears are spent on your last pretense  
And your tired eyes refuse to close and sleep in your defense  
When it's in your spine like you've walked for miles  
And the only thing you want is just to be still for a while

It makes Sebastian uneasy, but the kids don't seem to mind. Perhaps they are so nonchalant because they have yet to experience that sort of overwhelming pain. 

And if your heart wears thin, I will hold you up  
And I will hide you when it gets too much  
I'll be right beside you, I'll be right beside you  
I'll be right beside you

Sebastian really hates all of those 'I'll be right beside you' promises. He cannot help but think of Jim. 

When you're overwhelmed and you've lost your breath  
And the space between the things you know is blurry nonetheless  
When you try to speak but you make no sound  
And the words you want are out of reach but they've never been so loud

Thinking of Jim inevitably makes Sebastian think of Jim's broken fucking body. 

And if your heart wears thin, I will hold you up  
And I will hide you when it gets too much  
I'll be right beside you, I'll be right beside you  
I'll be right beside you  
I will stay, nobody will break you

And how he wishes Jim hadn't fucking done it. 

Trust in me, trust in me, don't pull away  
Just trust in me, trust me 'cause I'm just trying to keep it together  
'Cause I could do worse and you could do better

Desperately wishes Jim had stayed. But of course he hadn't. 

When your tears are spent on your last pretense  
And your tired eyes refuse to close and sleep in your defense  
And if your heart wears thin I will hold you up  
And I will hide you when it gets too much  
I'll be right beside you, nobody will break you

Hadn't given a fuck how it would impact upon Sebastian. 

And if your heart wears thin I will hold you up  
And I will hide you when it gets too much  
I'll be right beside you (I will stay beside you)  
Nobody will break you

Sebastian swallows, glancing up at the teenagers. Jasper's just been orphaned and yet he looks perfectly content. And Rowan must have suffered to get that mess on her shoulder, but she just mouths along to 'no one will break you' like she believes it.

The song changes. Starting softly, but rising into sharp, jagged noise. Bitter tones, catching breath, orchestral music in the background. 

I will softly pull away  
In this broken beautiful mess I've made  
And in the dead and quiet I will slowly fade  
In this masterpiece I made

There was nothing soft about the way Jim tore himself away. But Sebastian could picture the mad fuck. Excited about the imminent blood and gore right before he painted himself red and grey and broken and wet. 

I'll burn out and slip away  
And this is just a part I portray  
You're beautiful  
Can I hide in you and stay here?

Jim was a bloody brilliant actor, and Sebastian should have remembered that. He should have ignored all the things Jim whispered alone together and absolutely not ever ever ever thought of Jim as shelter.

Jim was a fucking disaster.

Making mostly to themselves  
Hush now, they'll hurt you till your heart melts  
They know you're lonely and they will only break your heart  
And this masterpiece will tear you apart

Didn't it just? Sebastian's focus on the song is broken as Rowan stretches and stands, swaying her hips predatorily as she walks in an experienced way that utterly belies the tender looking age of her face.

Jasper takes Sebastian aside as Rowan steps behind some shelves to change.

“I've got you to thank for that by the way,” Jasper murmurs.

“For what?” Sebastian responds.

“Porcelain. Father didn't really hit us as much once you knocked him out for hurting Rinn.”

Sebastian shrugs. “I'm your big brother. I'm supposed to protect you.”

“Even when it gets you hurt?”

“Especially then,” Sebastian says solemnly.

Jasper is quiet for a beat. “I know… that you're still hurting. Over your boyfriend. I'm… grateful that you're here anyway.”

Sebastian swallows. “I was hardly going to leave you here alone, was I? Although you might have had more fun if I had...”

Jasper smirks and glances in Rowan's direction. “I think I'm alright in that direction. Maybe. But seriously. Thank you for being here.”

Sebastian squeezes Jasper's shoulder calmly, but his chest is tight. He had been so tempted to follow Jim.

Was still somewhat tempted to follow Jim.

Who would Jasper have then?

Other than a model with a nose Sebastian has broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Beside You' - Marianas Trench  
> 'Masterpiece Theatre 2' - Marianas Trench


	4. Chapter 4

As far back as Sebastian can remember there has always been two pianos in the family home. There was the Bosendorfer in the music room, on which a reluctant Sebastian had been forced to practise, and there was the Bechstein, which he was not allowed to touch, except when called upon at important parties to show off the skills his father had paid for.

Neither of them felt quite like Jim's uniquely handcrafted Stuart and Sons piano, which had replaced the gleaming black Fazioli which had served Jim loyally until the brunet had in an exceptional fit of pique… destroyed the poor thing rather spectacularly.

Sebastian hasn't played the piano in years, but he remembers Jim playing all night when he couldn't sleep. 

Sebastian cannot remember the last time he had a proper night's sleep.

He wonders what Jim would think of the Bechstein. It's one of those art case grands which Augustus used to boast about although he didn't have an artistic atom in his body.

Sebastian pulls himself out of his single bed -which is bizarrely narrow now that he's grown- and treads softly downstairs.

It's bloody weird creeping around the house knowing that his father's dead and his mother's gone. Sebastian had always thought that there was something innately hateful about the residence, being the seat of the Moran line for so many generations, but now it merely seems familiar.

Eerily so, since Sebastian doesn't have many happy memories here.

Not like he ever feels like he might be happy again.

Sebastian is desperate to hear tinkling keys in the night even if he has to play himself. It might be childish spite that brings him before the Bechstein.

Fingers ghosting over the lid, Sebastian exposes the keys and sits down. One of the songs from that damn album is stuck in his head. 

He starts playing along to the tune bouncing around in his aching skull. And then he softly starts singing.

“Can I have your attention?  
“Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh...  
“I just opened my mouth, is it clear? Is it loud for you?”

Sebastian smirks bitterly to himself, wondering whether Jim can hear, wherever he is. If he still exists anywhere at all beyond Sebastian's raw memories.

“You just need me to be stable but I won't be able  
“To keep it together again...  
“Now don't pretty please me;  
“You're not making it that easy to slow me down...”

Well that was a joke, wasn't it? Sebastian wonders whether Jim really expected him to ever be okay afterwards. The bigger joke was thinking Jim would care to do anything to please Sebastian, like _not_ blowing his own brains out.

“It's no wonder I'm not eating, I'm not sleeping...”

Very true.

“You sing, sing, sing to me.”

Sebastian could still picture that -for how long?- and it makes him feel a surge of affection for the ivory keys under his fingers.

“Sing me something I need.”

Just to hear Jim's voice…

“Sing you, sing good, God I wish that I could...”

Sebastian closes his eyes. God he wishes he could hear Jim. See Jim. _Have Jim back_.

“Are you hearing me now?  
“Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh...  
“Heard the sad little sounds as they fall from my mouth, woe...”

If Jim _can_ hear Sebastian, he is probably laughing his twisted little arse off.

The blonde swallows.

“You just need me to be stable but I won't be able  
“To keep it together again.  
“Now don't pretty please me,  
“Do not make it that easy to slow me down...”

Why is he even singing this? Why is he singing out to a dead man who wouldn't care anyway?

“It's no wonder I'm not eating, I'm not sleeping...  
“You sing, sing, sing to me;  
“Sing me something I need:  
“Sing you, sing good, God I wish that I could...”

Weak. Sebastian used to think that Jim had made him stronger, but the truth is now he's merely weak.

“All my indecision, all of my excess;  
Don't you ever tell me I'm not lovin' you best.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? All the things Jim scolded him for, and the stupidest, worst thing Sebastian did was give feckless Jim Moriarty his heart.

“I just need a minute, I just need a breath;  
“It's very hard to drink to my continued success.”

Oh, and there was that. Sebastian had been drinking himself into quite the stupor until he heard Jasper needed him (not that the kid seemed to).

“Do I have your attention?”

Obviously not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sing Sing – Marianas Trench


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian finds himself sitting in the 'studio' again with his younger brother Jasper as the dark-haired teen fusses with expensive lenses.

“What do you think of Rowan?” Jasper asks carefully.

Sebastian smiles despite his grief. “What do _you_ think of Rowan?” he responds, waggling his eyebrows to make the kid laugh.

Jasper does, and smiles handsomely, his eyes glinting happily despite the pink that has risen to his cheeks. “I like her,” he admits.

“I noticed,” Sebastian teases.

Jasper twists his lips. “She keeps turning me down. Says I'm too young for her. But she keeps _looking_ at me, you know? And not in a friend zone way.”

“Has she done anything that suggests she'll change her mind?” Sebastian asks.

Jasper bites his lip as he considers. “I dunno. There's a spark, you know? Everything feels… heated.”

Sebastian considers the girl. She has a far rougher accent than Jasper and seems much more worldly wise. Evidently she grew up in real poverty in contrast to soft, pretty Jasper's plenty, but that doesn't seem to bother either of the pair.

She does have that ugly scar however. And she's used to getting her face smashed in. The kids might not be a match emotionally, with Rowan's life experiences evidently being harsher.

Of course, Jasper does come from a troubled family, so he has seen suffering up close.

Rowan wanders back into the library before Sebastian can shape his thoughts into words. 

Sebastian blinks at her. The baby-faced young woman is idly pulling at shibari ropes with her teeth seemingly unaware of anything startling about their presence.

Jasper quips cheekily at Rowan. Her expression of concentration breaks into a laugh and she shoves the curly-haired teen, careful of the expensive equipment.

“Loser,” she snorts.

“You love me,” Jasper retorts with a cocky tilt of his chin. 

She grins and rolls her eyes. “You're not my type, little boy.”

“Liar,” he winks. “I know you want all of this.”

She chuckles disparagingly. “Why am I even friends with you? _Loser_.”

“You've used that one.”

“It's very true though.”

Sebastian tries not to grimace at how happy his brother and Rowan look in each other's company and escapes quietly. Feeling that familiar addiction to feeding the ache in his chest, his brain, his everything, Sebastian switches on that damned album again. 

Everyone's around, no words are coming now  
And I can't find my breath, can we just say the rest with no sound?  
And I know this isn't enough, I still don't measure up  
And I'm not prepared; sorry is never there when you need it

Sebastian stares up at his childhood ceiling. It's ridiculous that seeing the kids so happy should trigger this sort of pain. 

And I do want you know I'll hold you up above everyone  
And I do want you know I think that you'd be good to me  
And I'd be so good to you  
I would

Sebastian pictures staring up at this very ceiling decades prior and imagining being wanted. How desperately willing he had been to earn such recognition. 

I thought I saw a sign somewhere between the lines  
Maybe it's me, maybe I only see what I want  
But I still have your letter  
just got caught between someone I just invented,  
Who I am really am and who I've become

He wonders how much of his relationship with Jim had been real. Was Sebastian just so desperate for something that he had imagined that Jim valued him? 

And I do want you know I'll hold you up above everyone  
And I do want you know I think you'd be good to me  
And I'd be so good to you  
I can't be without you  
I would

Jim hadn't wanted him though. Sebastian had held him up above everything, even himself, and Jim had… done that… instead. Blood everywhere...

And I do want you know I'll hold you up above everyone  
And I do want you know I think you'd be good to me  
And I'd be so good to you  
I'd be good to you, I'd be good to you  
I'd be good to you, I'd be so good to you  
I'd be good to you, I'd be good to you  
I'd be good to you, I'd be so good to you

Honestly, enough whining, Sebastian thinks, scrubbing at his face. Jim would be disgusted at this moping.

Not that it matters.

Sebastian pulls himself up from his narrow childhood bed and stretches a bit, listening to the more upbeat, slightly scathing song now playing as he crosses over to the dusty speedbag against the wall. 

I look around, round, look around and look it over,  
I take it up, up take it out and take you nowhere,  
Trading in who I've been for shiny celebrity skin

It was always kind of about Jim. Scouting around for him as a bodyguard or sniper, driving him around and listening to all those little barbs. Shedding everything but his talent with artillery to be the second to the illusive 'M', infamous Moriarty, someone who mattered. 

I like to push it and push it until my luck is over.  
It never stop stops, never stops well you better,  
Think it over prima donna you don't want to sever  
All the work to impress, charming girls out of their dresses,  
Smiling pretty, well pretty will swallow you forever

And Sebastian had felt special. Felt like he mattered, because Jim would let Sebastian push him and seem amused by it. Sebastian had felt desired. Would do anything to keep that approval, and did so. 

Step one, step two, step three repeat  
And I pray at the church of asses in the seats,  
I disappear behind the beat  
Yeah

Not that the effort mattered a fucking iota. 

When the mirrors and the lights  
And the smoke clear I'd never guess  
How we ever could have got here.  
You can say what you say  
When the lights go down  
So shake shake shake,  
And shut your mouth

But Jim fucking said that it did, and Sebastian had believed him. 

I wonder why, why, I wonder why, why I outta,  
Let you wreck, resurrect whatever you want to.  
I can't depend in the end you know  
I thought you were my friend.  
Just stop, just stop, just stop I think I got it.

Fucking idiot, was what it came down to: Sebastian was a moron Moran. 

Sorry you, sorry me, sorry every in between,  
Sorry everybody here will never be somebody clean.  
There's a piece of me they're throwing back at us,  
And they will buy you and sell you for celebrity status

It was splashed all over the media of course. Sebastian couldn't go anywhere without reminders of his failure to keep Jim alive, not that many knew how much the blond suffered over it. 

Step one, step two, step three repeat  
And I pray at the church of asses in the seats,  
I disappear behind the beat

It was all gone now. Everything. 

When the mirrors and the lights  
And the smoke clear I'd never guess  
How we ever could have got here.  
You can say what you say  
When the lights go down  
So shake shake shake,  
And shut your mouth

Jim was gone.

When the mirrors and the lights  
And the smoke clear I'd never guess  
How we ever could have got here.  
You can say what you say  
When the lights go down  
So shake shake shake,  
And shut your mouth

And Sebastian had lost everything.

Look around, round  
Look around, round  
Look around

Jim was never coming back. 

I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying

Try as Sebastian might, there was no way of fixing this. 

When the mirrors and the lights  
And the smoke clear I'd never guess  
How we ever could have got here.  
You can say what you say  
When the lights go down  
So shake shake shake,  
And shut your mouth

His knuckles are starting to burn and sting, but there is no way to make the worse pain go away. 

When the mirrors and the lights  
And the smoke clear I'd never guess  
How we ever could have got here.  
You can say what you say  
When the lights go down  
So shake shake shake,  
And shut your mouth

Jim was never coming back and Sebastian was utterly lost.

I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying

Sebastian blinks and realises he's crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good to You and Celebrity Status by Marianas Trench.


	6. Chapter 6

It has well gone eleven by the time Sebastian drags himself out of bed for a shower and downstairs to the kitchen. There was a time when the blond hated spending all morning in bed, had to be up and out and _doing something_ , but it's becoming increasingly normal for him to spend hours watching the cracks of sunlight from above the curtains move across the ceiling.

Sebastian has little better to do, and does not really care to find a more industrious way to fill his time. What's the point, really?

At first Sebastian had coped with Jim's death by focusing on maintaining everything the dark-haired man had built, but the normalcy of that had been too _raw_. How could the world so much as contemplate continuing to turn when Jim was gone?

So Sebastian had gotten other people to oversee most things, and if certain projects slipped or corroded, well, Sebastian didn't have the energy to care. Didn't have the energy to care about most things.

In a weird, sick way coming home might have been the saving of him. If Sebastian didn't have the reassuring presence of his quirky little brother around… well… Sebastian might just have deep-throated Jim's beretta by now as well.

Of course, Jasper is not without his faults.

Sebastian stops dead as he holds open the heavy door to the kitchen. His curly-headed youngest brother is bent over Rowan, a large, pale hand pressing tightly down upon her throat.

Sebastian swallows. Being left alone in this household without the positive influence of his big brothers, of _course_ Jasper would have picked up some of their father's habits.

Sebastian steps into the room, unobserved due to the intensity with which the teens eye each other, and then Rowan snorts comfortably.

She twists, breaking Jasper's hold easily, and swipes a knife from the rack, pressing it tauntingly into the pale skin near Jasper's jutting hips.

Sebastian rushes in to disable Rowan and diffuse the entire sorry situation, but Jasper drops to his knees, expensive polo shirt riding up even higher, and leans out to lick the flat of the blade.

Rowan notices Sebastian's presence first and takes a prompt half-step backwards, expression turning awkward.

Jasper freezes, face level with Rowan's stomach, and turns to look up at his older brother. “Uh, hi Seb,” he mutters.

Sebastian rubs his forehead tiredly then holds up both palms. “I'm not gonna ask,” he declares.

Jasper's eyes glitter a little. “I think you know exactly what was happening,” he teases softly.

“And I've totally lost my appetite, so the kitchen's all yours. Use protection,” Sebastian mutters.

Rowan stares at him, looking worried like Sebastian is gonna _warn_ someone about her behaviour -as if there is anyone to warn- so the blond gives her a calm nod. As though he's calm at all.

He escapes the kitchen.

Fuck.

His skin is crawling a little in embarrassment but that is hardly the worst part of the situation.

Jealous.

Sebastian is jealous that the two kids are just at the start of their relationship, when his own has ended, and he cannot bear contemplation of another, ever.

Sebastian wanders the manor, unwilling to return to his dull, dusty room as though his memories are waiting for him there. All the same, they follow him along the ornate corridors.

Jim, Jim, Jim.

Sebastian tries to call up a song to distract from the haunting images practically breathing against his skin, but he knows it won't really help.

'Please sing to me, I can see you open up to breathe.'

Sebastian thought Jim's voice would be the first thing he would forget, but it isn't. How could anyone forget such a vivd, emotive performance as the jarring, sing-song voice Jim possessed?

'Because fast words make it easier on me.' 

Jim's words were almost hypnotising. The brunet could have purred that Sebastian ought string his own granny to a burning Christmas tree and Sebastian would not have lost a beat. That voice had a magic all its own.

'If the point's to never disappoint you,  
Somebody's got to tell me what to do.'

Jim was never particularly forthcoming in explaining his plans, but the final one was the worst. What did he expect Sebastian to do afterwards?

'I just wish you would've seen me,  
When it used to come so easy.'

Sebastian is oddly grateful that Jim didn't care enough to linger in spectral form except in Sebastian's memories. Jim seeing him like this -broken, lost- is horrifying.

'I'd like to say that it's easy to stay, but it's not for me:  
Because I'm barely here at all.'

Worst still is that Jim could read Sebastian better than anyone, _even better than Severin_ , and he'd have been able to tell with a glance how close Sebastian was to giving up entirely.

'Slow down now, the secret's out  
And I swear now, everything is perfect.'

The thought gives Sebastian pause, sending a chill down his spine even though he's considered it a thousand times since his loss. ' _Don't,_ ' he tells himself. No good comes from thinking that way.

'What you want, what you need has been killing me;  
Trying to be everything that you want me to be.'

Sebastian takes a deep, shuddering breath. He's doing so much better now, living here, but his sanity is still hanging by a taunt thread. He can't… what is he supposed to do without Jim? Not that Jim fucking cares, or ever did.

'I'll say yes I'll undress, I've done more for less  
And I will change everything until it's perfect again.'

Which is fucking tragic, really, as Sebastian was perfectly willing -even now- to tie himself backwards in knots if it could please Jim in some way.

'Coming down, coming around,  
Giving a frown to the sound when I hit ground.  
I hate the way that I say I should stay  
When I know that I don't give a fuck about it anyway.'

Jim had been so fucking clever at making it _seem_ like he cared. Sebastian honestly thought that for all Jim was cold, he loved Sebastian deeply, and wasn't that a fucking laugh? Sadder still was that Sebastian wouldn't even care about that if Jim would only come back.

'I shake hands and shoot smiles all around  
As I sell my body by the pound;  
Sign my name on a dotted line  
for what would be fate, do not resuscitate!'

Sebastian would do anything. He had _always_ done anything. Anything Jim desired. His life was Jim's to command.

'Just slow down now, the secret's out  
And I swear now I'll still make this perfect.'

That was Sebastian's function. He existed to please Jim.

'What you want, what you need has been killing me:  
Trying to be everything that you want me to be.  
I'll say yes I'll undress, I've done more for less,  
And I will change everything until it's perfect again.'

And Jim was gone forever. Sebastian was without a master. Without a motive, without a meaning, without, without, _without_ …


	7. Chapter 7

Boys don't cry, Sebastian was told in this household. He knows it is nonsense: Sebastian's job was to harm people for a living. The big blond knows men often cry when they suffer.

As such, Sebastian barely fucking cares what his deceased father would have to say about his sobs through the night.

The tears are hot and uncomfortable on his face. Once unfamiliar, the unpleasant wetness soaking his face and pillows seems to be the sensation Sebastian falls asleep and wakes up to.

The room smells like his childhood. Sebastian was packed off to boarding school at an early age, and from there uni and officer training, so the bedroom should most strongly carry memories of Sebastian's earliest years. However, he has quickly come to associate his bedroom with grief. Sebastian's room is the one place where he lets himself cry without censorship. Jasper's room is too far away for even Sebastian's heaviest sobs to be overheard.

Sebastian is stomach down with his head buried under a wet pillow when he feels the fine hairs upon his body ripple. As they stand on end the big man perks his ears and wonders at the change: he has not heard a thing.

Deciding it is safe to look around (and even if it wasn't, Jasper hardly needs him really), Sebastian pushes aside his bedding. The dim moonlight from his open window shifts oddly.

Ah.

Rowan is on the roof again.

Sebastian half expects his zany half-brother to be taking pictures from somewhere, but as the young woman creeps along silently Sebastian understands this is not so. She does not intend to be seen.

Sebastian rises from his bed and crosses carefully to the window.

Rowan clambers carefully down the slope of the rooftop and approaches a dark window. It is so quiet Sebastian can hear the soft scuff of her boots as they leave tiles for brickwork. She wriggles inside and Sebastian does not know why but he is pushing away from his own window ledge and swooshing out of his bedroom on bare feet.

By the time Sebastian has caught up with her Rowan is already easing her way down the nearby servant's staircase. She knows which creaky steps to avoid better than any guest should and Sebastian has to hang back lest his greater weight alerts her to his pursuit.

There is a chink of light under the door before Rowan. In the dark space it is disorientating, and Rowan hesitates to lower herself down the last few steps.

Sebastian hovers silently. She reaches for the door handle and he freezes.

The light from beyond the door is blocked momentarily then returns partially. Sebastian hears a set of footsteps that are nothing like his little brother's bouncy tread.

Rowan opens the door carefully and assesses whoever is on the other side. “About bloody time,” she mumbles.

“Excuse you?”

Sebastian falters upon hearing her companion's voice. Is he sleeping still?

Rowan's posture instantly sings with tension. “Sorry, Boss,” she blurts instantly. “S'just… It's hard you know?”

Sebastian's subconscious must be confused because no one would give Jim excuses. The young woman steps around the door and lightly pushes it closed behind herself.

Sebastian stands frozen for a beat then pads down the remaining stairs.

“You look like hell, you know,” Rowan says. “Almost as bad as him.”

There is a tightness in the air like Sebastian can almost feel it meeting Jim's imagined pursed lips.

“You're supposed to be keeping an eye on him; what I look like is irrelevant,” spits a tired voice that sounds accented just like Jim but has the tone all wrong. Sebastian is uncertain he's dreaming now because his subconsciousness could never think that resigned voice sounds like Jim.

“There's only so much I can manipulate him to eat and sleep,” Rowan responds. She paces the wooden floor but has the sense not to sit comfortably in dream Jim's presence. “He's not in a good place, Boss.”

“You're not here to judge his state of mind: you're here to ensure he stays breathing!” snaps a voice that is all Jim.

Sebastian cannot help but find his fingers splayed upon the door.

“He's going to choke in his sleep if he keeps crying so much,” Rowan states.

Sebastian reconsiders the urge to push against the timber. Is he so pathetic?

There is a clatter as though something is thrown in Rowan's direction. It distracts the eavesdropping blond for a moment.

“Will you be quiet?” Rowan hisses. “He's only a few rooms away and he's probably still awake.”

There is silence for a moment then Sebastian hears someone moving about. The steps are too light and resigned to be Jim's. Is someone else there? No, no. Of course Sebastian is merely fancying he can hear Jim.

“You're right, of course.”

“It's a natural propensity,” Rowan retorts sarcastically. “The bloodline.”

Sebastian feels his chest constrict for a moment. Rowan's cheekbones and mannerisms…

“Don't think it'll save you if you irk me, darling,” Jim warns. “Everyone's disposable.”

“We wouldn't be here if that was true,” Rowan scoffs, but she lowers her voice as though wary of pushing her luck.

There is silence other than, after a pause, the squeak of Rowan's soles as she shifts her weight nervously. Jim's glare could easily have such an effect. 

“Stop wasting time,” Jim warns at last. “There is so little of it.”

“I still don't understand why you don't just get him to help,” Rowan mutters a little petulantly. “You'd get the work done faster and you'd both perk right up.”

“I don't pay you to think,” Jim snaps.

“And yet,” Rowan responds. She pushes away from something heavy, the writing desk, Sebastian supposes, and walks slowly across the room. The crack of light under the door shifts.

There is a swish of fabric near where Sebastian believes Rowan has walked to. It's not the heavy denim of her black jeans or the muted cotton of her sweatshirt.

It sounds like Jim's suits. Is such a noise unmistakeable?

“You're welcome,” Rowan says as though she has handed something over. Sebastian did not see her carrying anything, so he supposes she may have had something in her pocket like a memory card or a key.

“Check whether he's sleeping,” her companion orders gruffly.

She pushes a heavy breath through her nose. “He has bad dreams the nights you come around. You-”

She exclaims softly in muted pain. Her footsteps are louder as she twists out of what Sebastian presumes is a tight grasp; her hair is an optimum length for grabbing.

“You want me to look out for him,” Rowan grumbles in a muted voice.

“Shut up, and don't sound bitter,” Jim responds.

Rowan huffs. Sebastian wonders at her bravery, but then she mutters, “Maybe I should be like you and start killing off relatives...”

“Like you could make me proud,” Jim says. It sounds like he's trying to feel amused but is distracted and agitated. He doesn't normally bother.

Rowan sighs and trots back towards the door. “Whatever. I'll go check. You'll probably be waiting a while; I can't remember the last time he slept properly.”

“I can wait,” Jim states curtly.

Sebastian stares at the door. He should turn and leave now if he wants to go unnoticed.

“Don't make him wait much longer,” Rowan says quietly. She pauses at the doorway and blocks much of the light.

“You know I'm almost ready,” Jim bites.

“Yeah; I also know he haunts this place more like a ghost that you do,” Rowan replies.

Jim is quiet.

Rowan pushes at the door.

Sebastian's heart hammers but his feet remain rooted to the ground. He blinks as his pupils contract a little painfully at the sudden brightness.

Rowan jumps in open fright at his presence and jolts into a fighting stance before her expression shapes into recognition of him. Sebastian barely notices. He is staring past her.

Jim.

The _fucking bastard_ looks briefly astonished, then a whole host of other emotions too swiftly filtered for Sebastian to decipher. Jim is wearing a shirt Sebastian has not seen before and the brunet appears gaunt.

“Tiger.”

Sebastian's imagination could never make that pet name jar his spine like the worst unthinkable slur. The love in that word feels like a further betrayal.

Jim looks as though that one exclamation was his only vocabulary. Sebastian cannot remember seeing Jim seem lost for words before. Not even when they did not require them.

Mostly, he and Jim did not need safe words. Sure, Jim was often manic and Sebastian could be a bit brutish with his strength, but for the most part they were always remarkably in sync. Jim knew when he could push Seb's buttons, and which, and when to leave well alone. Sebastian could take a man apart in a thousand varied ways, but he knew the exact tells of how much force was _enough_ for Jim per each circumstance. 

Ordinarily, Jim's foot in Sebastian's gut preluded an argument that would end with one or both of them soundly buggered. The sight now of Jim standing there was a metaphorical boot to the stomach for Sebastian, but instead of being fired with excitement the blond simply feels sick.

“Are you serious?” Sebastian asks hotly.


	8. Chapter 8

“Sebastian.”

The blond stares at Jim's drawn, white face for a moment and feels sickening certainty that whilst this may be a twisted joke, it is not, as he had thought moments before, any sort of dream.

Sebastian marches towards Jim who for all his new frailty seems tellingly _solid_ for a ghost. Jim holds out a pale hand warily in an attempt to caution his lover or perhaps even halt Sebastian's wrath.

Sebastian will have none of that, and ignores the distressed reaction of Rowan as he picks his _lying, rotten, emotionally bankrupt, treacherous EX lover_ up by the lapels and charges the small frame into a wall tastefully decorated.

Jim grunts and arches up to try to breathe against the restrictions placed by the way Sebastian's fists wrap themselves in Jim's clothing.

Sebastian is not carrying a gun: the realisation comes to him abruptly. He has not carried a gun since he has moved into the Manor as there has been nothing to protect and he has wished himself stone dead.

Sebastian feels a further surge of anger. He slams Jim harder against the wall and grimly notes he feels no remorse for the way Jim chokes. Sebastian transfers the grip of his traitorous lover to one large hand and claws at Jim's attire. The blond is vaguely aware of Rowan at his arms making some sort of protest but Jim is quiet as Sebastian rips a collar stay from the brunet's clothing.

Sebastian stares at the stamped metal. It almost seems to burn his fingers and he jumps away from Jim at once. The brunet drops to his feet and splutters without much indignity. 

“You messed up _monster_ ,” Sebastian spits. He grasps the collar stay so firmly its writing embosses upon his skin despite how the touch of it feels toxic.

Jim straightens and adjusts his clothing silently. “This was not how I planned our reunion.”

Sebastian freezes. “You were just going to _come back_? After all of this? After _what I've been through_?”

Jim's gaze flickers before he takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Isn't that what you've _wanted_?” He fixes his attention to Sebastian's appearance perceptively, noting and assessing the dried tear tracks there. “It's what you've been pining for, isn't it?”

Sebastian hates him, then. Until that moment he had just been angry, so very, very hurt and angry… but now, Sebastian feels hatred burn in his chest.

“Rot in _hell_ ,” he snarls at his not-remotely-dead Jim and stalks back the way he had came, towards his childhood bedroom.

“Sebby,” Jim calls out mildly behind him.

The blond slams his bedroom door shut pointedly and locks it. He leans his broad back against the door as though to strengthen it with his bulk. Closing his eyes, he hears Jim's footsteps follow. They stop in the hallway, and instead of continuing towards Sebastian, Jim turns and walks away.

Sebastian feels hot tears burn his cheeks. He clenches his fists helplessly and takes note of the metal in his hand.

A token of affection Sebastian had had custom made for Jim before… Before.

Sebastian slumps down in defeat against his door and lets out a miserable noise. He holds the collar stay so tightly it pricks his palm and hisses as he opens his fist to inspect the blood. It seems typical somehow.

Sebastian throws the stay across his bedroom and ignores the noise that suggests it has connected off of something. He startles moments later upon hearing Jasper's infernal album rattle into life. 

'This place is a hole, but I don't want to go  
I wish we could stay here forever alone.  
This time that we waste, but I still love your taste.'

The blond chuckles bitterly and looks around his childhood bedroom. It has certainly always felt like a hole but he cannot bear to leave it now. Not when Jim is…

Jim is outside.

Jim is here and Sebastian cannot help but miss him. He wants the cruel monster back _now_. Sebastian snorts bitterly and kisses the damned collar stay.

'Don't let him take my place, don't just sit there.'

Well that's nonsense. As if Jim could ever have room for anyone other than himself. Sebastian had hoped though… He had _so_ hoped Jim had loved him.

Sebastian shakes his head at the song, not even feeling stupid for doing so. He cannot possibly do anything but sit here. Not after this latest turn of events.

'Sometimes I wish you would leave me.  
Well, I'm not sick of you yet,  
is that as good as it gets?'

Sighing, Sebastian rests his head in his hands. His heart hurts. He feels ridiculous that he can feel this way when he was once such a hardened criminal. But it _hurts_.

'I'll just try to hide it, or I could slip into you,  
It's so easy to come back into you.'

Sebastian groans and rubs his face. He feels ridiculous.

'I stand for awhile and waited for words,  
Seen but not heard and struggled to try.'

That's exactly what happened. He stood there as Jim told Rowan to go check on him as though he cared.

'My tongue's turning black, but I'll take you back.  
You're still the best more or less, I guess, I guess.'

Sebastian closes his eyes and feels further tears escape them.

'Don't you leave me,  
Well, I'm not sick of you yet,  
Is that as good as it gets?  
I'll just try to hide it, or I could slip into you,  
It's so easy to come back into you.'

He will, won't he? Sebastian hates himself for the bit of his soul which tells him he'd forgive Jim even this.

'It hurts me to say that it hurts me to stay.  
And it might be alright if you go.  
It hurts me to say that I want you to stay,  
But it might be alright if you go.'

Could Sebastian allow that? Jim has hurt him so much… Is it even possible to cut the brunet from his life?

'So leave me,  
well, I'm not sick of you yet,  
Is that as good as it gets?  
I'll just try to hide it, or I could slip into you,  
It's so easy to come back into you.'

Sebastian grips his own triceps and sobs openly. If Jim had truly loved him at all the Irishman would not have left him. He just wouldn't have.

And Sebastian still loves the monster.

But how can he accept someone who clearly cannot love him?

'Sometimes I think that the bitter in you and the quitter in me  
Is the bitter in you and the quitter in me.  
The bitter in you and the quitter in me  
Is the bitter in you and the quitter in me.  
The bitter in you and the quitter in me  
Is bigger than the both of us.'

Sebastian looks up into the gloom of his dark bedroom. He escaped here to stew, but now that he is faced with this choice he has so longed for he does not know what to do.


	9. Chapter 9

Jim should leave the manor but he does not. He wanders his surroundings without paying them much attention as he considers his actions.

This was not how he had planned for things to go.

Jim admits to himself that even had the planned reveal gone ahead he never really had any control over how it would make Sebastian _feel_. The blond was perfectly entitled to his upset, however… frustrating.

Jim was certain he did not feel guilt ever, but the unpleasant burning in his chest _might_ have been something _vaguely_ akin to the emotion.

Sebastian's sobs sounded broken.

Jim takes note of his surroundings in an attempt to distract himself and finds his feet have taken him to the former Lord Moran's study.

Well. Perhaps some unconscious part of Jim is guilty after all. Sebastian had spoken about this room a number of times and mostly in reference to scars upon his back and legs. Many years after those first discussions some of those same scars _still_ remain.

This room caused Sebastian real pain. The blond's father would call him here to administer disproportionate 'discipline' that had left aftershocks lurking in Sebastian's nightmares still up until very recently.

Up until all Sebastian's dreams became saturated with Jim and blood.

Jim presses his lips together tightly and rubs his temples. He is guilty.

He wanders the study staring at the dark wooden panels and dusty leather book spines. So few things make Sebastian afraid. These walls had soaked up Sebastian's fear and dread and _rebellion_ in the time before the blond knew Jim.

There is an ivory coloured dust sheet covering what must surely be the desk Sebastian had referenced over and over. Jim crosses over the worn Turkish rug and pulls the fabric aside.

He stares at the desk. It seems like a symbol of Lord Moran's betrayal of his son. A father should protect and love his child. Jim's fingers find the scratches on the edge of the desk Sebastian had described and the brunet swallows audibly in the dull, dusty room.

Moving his fingers over the scrapes in the wooden desk's varnish Jim can also feel grooves worn by Sebastian's fingers over a miserable childhood and turbulent adolescence. There are scratches at Jim's feet that are not from Lord Moran's chair. Pain and betrayal: an abuse of trust.

Jim can feel Sebastian's raw pain through the manor walls. An abuse of trust.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. He has scarred Sebastian in worse ways than the man's cruel father ever did.

Sebastian does not leave his bedroom the next day. Rowan gives Jim a bravely reproachful look and sits him down for breakfast with the skinny whelp Jasper who regards the man with an icy rebuke of his own. Presumably Rowan has explained the events of the night.

Rowan makes Sebastian's own breakfast with real care and gives Jim a cool look as she leaves the room. She does not return for some time. Jim judges from her expression that she has not persuaded Sebastian to eat but she has not returned with any breakfast crockery.

They spend the day waiting, but Sebastian does not materialise.

Jim finds himself returning to the wing the blond resides in. Music blasts through the space and echoes down the halls. Jim frowns. Sebastian had learnt quickly in their relationship not to play music loudly in their home although Jim of course had followed no such rules.

This is not their home though.

The same artist seems to play on and on in a loop. Jim wonders whether Sebastian is torturing himself or simply covering the sound of the sobs that sometimes rise above the sound of the exasperatingly youthful, punchy music.

Jim knows then that he is agitated, because he knows his own music taste is far more eccentric. This music doesn't sound anything like Sebastian's usual tastes forever.

Perhaps that's the point. Sebastian certainly has no memories of being with Jim whilst this music plays. The brunet eyes the floor distrustfully expecting dust and finds himself settling on the floor.

'I've got a new disease in me,  
'I got a friend that's losing sleep.  
'I take it hard, it's hard to take,  
'I'm wide awake, I'm wide aaawaaaaaaake.'

Has Sebastian slept? Jim tells himself he personally lost no sleep over the foolish misunderstanding (a _misunderstanding_ , even as Jim thinks it the brunet knows he is being ridiculous) but the truth does not quite align with this assertion.

'One more confession, discretion's not what I need to sell,  
'I never needed a reason for keeping secrets from myself.  
'And now that's just how I teellll I'm wide awaaaake.'

The music almost seems to mock him. Jim wonders how Sebastian is coping. The blond was never the type to cry before.

'I'll wreck this if I have to tell me what good would that do?  
'I'll wreck this if I have to.'

Wasn't that exactly what Jim had done?

'You get separated, somebody's gone,  
'And I don't know how; this is wrong.  
'And I'm so frustrated, falling behind,  
'You were a friend of miiiiine.'

Jim swallows. His careful plan is not bringing him much satisfaction as he listens to Sebastian's sobs and the music bouncing off of the walls. Jim had never been one for friends, but Sebastian had been his friend as well as his lover. Sebastian is rare.

'I'd be so good to you,  
'Because they don't know you like I doooo.  
'They don't know you like I do.  
'They don't know you like I doooo.  
'They don't know you like I dooooooo.'

Jim had been so jealous at first. Sebastian had been good with people: handsome and charming and found nothing uncomfortable about getting men or women into his bed. Jim had desperately wanted Sebastian's attention and the blond had quite astonished him -him, Jim, who was _never_ surprised- by proving that he understood Jim better than the brunet thought anyone ever could.

'There's a difference from me to them,  
'And the road home is paved in star fuckers' requiem,  
'I can never go, go back home again,  
'Acadia is gone.'

With a saturnine sigh Jim acknowledges that for all the ways they fit together and for all his clever plans, he has royally fucked up.

'All my indecision, all of my excess,  
'Don't you ever tell me I'm not loving you best.  
'And I just need a minute, I just need a breath,  
'It gets very hard to drink to my continued success  
And I… I...'

Sebastian's rough voice sings along. His throat songs sore and his tone bitter. Jim feels absolute certainty in his guilt.  
'Slow down, it's better in the worst way,  
It's getting better in the worst waaaay.'

Sebastian breaks off in a choking sound which breaks into snivelling again. Here Jim is, exactly what Sebastian wanted, and it's all the blond can do to weep his heart out. Jim hates himself.

'(Look around...)'  
The vocals change and repeat their command fervently. Jim wonders exactly what he should be looking at: the utter mess he's made of their lives; the memory of Sebastian's betrayed blue eyes or perhaps the uncharacteristically emotional sniper behind Sebastian's childhood bedroom's door.

Sebastian was never in the habit of sitting against doors, said most weren't made to withstand bullets, but Jim can see the light shifting under the door that suggests it is indeed where Sebastian is crouching. Perhaps these expensive doors are thick enough, or perhaps being surrounded by these walls has regressed Sebastian to a time when he did not care for such details.

Or perhaps the blond simply does not care anymore.

'So here's another day, I'll spend away from you,  
'Another night I'm on another broken avenue,  
'Trading in who I've been for shiny celebrity skin  
'I like to push until my luck is over.'

It's not as if Jim has been having fun without Sebastian. It's a _job_. Tiger is…

'(Please just follow me.)'

Jim wishes he could.

'I wonder what you're doing,  
'I wonder if you doubt it.  
'I wonder how we used to ever go so long without it.  
'(I thought you wanted me).'

Jim wants to go to Sebastian. He wants to open that door and hell, even _apologise_.

But it's no secret what Sebastian is thinking.

'All the work to impress, charming girls out-  
'(I thought you wanted me.)  
'-Of their dresses and smiling pretty and pretty yeah oh yeah...  
'(I thought you wanted me...)  
'I'm right beside youuuu,  
'(What you want; what you need...)  
'(I thought you wanted me...)'

The music is getting complicated and confusing and it all seems like a rather hopeless endeavour. To think dating mousy Molly Hooper had once been the worst thing Jim had ever done to Sebastian.

'I'll make this perfect again.  
'(What you want what you need...)  
'(I thought you wanted me...)  
'If I buuuurn oooout and sliiip awaaaaay,  
'(What you want what you need...)  
'(I thought you wanted me...)'

Well Jim was not above grovelling to Sebastian then so he is certainly not above grovelling now, regardless of how distasteful the idea might be. Although… the more Jim considers it the less absurd the idea seems.

'You're beautiful, you aaaaare.  
'I've been heeeere soooo very loooong and I could slip into you,  
'It's so easy to come back into you,  
'I'll hide it, could I hide in you a whiiiiiile.  
'I'm not sick of you yet, is that as good as it gets?'  
Jim loves the sulking man mountain Former man mountain. He's gotten so skinny. Jim can fix that. It's the rest that's going to be difficult.

'I never took you for a trip,  
'But sometimes I don't know what you want,   
'I could take it,  
'If you need to take this out on someone.'

Jim is uncertain how exactly he is going to fix _this_ spectacular miscalculation, but he knows he has to stand up and try. He brushes down his trousers and nervously approaches Sebastian's door.

'If this is just a part I portray,  
'I don't know how it got this waaaaaaaaay.'

Whatever convoluted plans Jim had made, Sebastian should always his been his highest priority.


	10. Chapter 10

Sebastian wilfully ignores Jim's footsteps outside his bedroom and feeds his simmering anger instead. _'Betrayal_.' That's what this is. Sebastian frowns darkly despite the wet streaks down his flushed cheeks.

Jim has _betrayed_ him. What sort of a _sick bastard_ would fake his own bloody death… and come back?

Sebastian hates Jim, almost. He certainly hates the situation and his thick hands curl into fists as behind him Jim stiltedly knocks on the doorframe.

Sebastian rolls his tight shoulders, feeling dirty and on edge. He glares at his feet as through the dooor Jim's voice worms through a familiar drawl of, “Sebastian?”

...Except it's not that familiar sounding, and the peculiarity of the sound is not because it has been so _damnably_ long since Jim used to call out to him.

Jim's voice is strange, because he sounds uncertain.

Sebastian is not used to such a noise. Nor is he truly able to process how this thing that he has so desperately wanted ( _Jim_ … alive…) makes him _so_ incredibly upset. 

On the other side of the door Jim shifts his weight audibly. He is not used to the blond making him wait, but Sebastian resolves himself not to open the door to the treacherous snake.

...Spider. That's what people used to call Jim. Sebastian heaves a breath that is somewhere between anger and sob. Vile, venomous spider.

Jim clicks his tongue. The noise would normally indicate his annoyance but the hair rising on the back of Sebastian's thick neck suggests Jim actually sounds uncertain. That's rather new.

Jim makes a disgruntled noise. Ordinarily Sebastian knows that would prelude being swatted for some (perhaps imagined) misdemeanour, but not today. Sebastian stubbornly settles his weight even more firmly against the door.

“Sebastian...” Jim hisses, “I can't make things better if you don't… er...”

Very new indeed. Sebastian's brows shoot as high as they did when he first saw his dark-haired ghost. Still. 

“Go away, Jim,” Sebastian says flatly.

There is a beat of silence where Jim is definitely staring at the door in confusion. Sebastian doesn't speak to him like that. Or, he didn't.

Seb does now, and in fact, he doesn't want to talk to Jim _at all_. Except for a pathetic little part of himself that Sebastian is doing his best to ignore, because _fuck_. That. Noise.

“Tiger.”

Jim definitely did that thing where he licks his lips with that wide eyed look of perplexity that easily slips into narrowed eyes and drawn down brows. He is not used to not getting his own way. Jim gives the orders.

Sebastian is not willing to follow them anymore. He is not even willing to listen.

He stands very, very quietly. With the silent grace of his namesake Sebastian creeps towards the open window.

“Look, I'm… I'm _sorry_ , alright,” Jim says. “I… I shouldn't-”

Sebastian climbs onto the windowframe so he doesn't need to listen. Jim hasn't even finished his sentence before Sebastian is outside, swallowing slowly as he gets his footing on the lethally high rooftop. The air is cold and it startles Seb's nerves, biting at his wet skin. It's refreshing and makes him focus. This is a double boon, because not only does it rip away some of the fog of shock, it makes Sebastian place his feet carefully on a path that might otherwise lead to his death.

Sebastian has no real thought about direction other than away from Jim. He wanders the vast expanse of rooftop for a while pausing on and off to stare out at his parents' land. Jasper's land now, he supposes.

Sebastian wonders how Jim would take it if he just… stepped off, into the air, and _fell_. Landed splattered and bleeding like Sherlock, but more irreparably broken.

A gust of wind pushes against Sebastian's chest and he has to grab a carved water spout for support. The fright flares within him then ebbs as he becomes aware of the fresh sting in his palm.

Perhaps no jumping then. And why ought he anyhow, when Jim is the bastard at fault?

Sebastian sighs and takes stock of his surroundings. He works out a way down and follows his route carefully.

Jasper and Rowan look up as Sebastian guides his remaining bulk through an open window. Perhaps the cold has sharpened his mind, because he displays much more grace than he has in days. Months. Years.

As he enters Seb is crisply aware of the music the kids are playing. It's not that damn album he's become embarrassingly obsessed with, thankfully.

 _'I might have been gone but I never walked out._ '

That's what… The Worry List? It's another artist Jasper appears to love, and Sebastian's heard the song a thousand times before. This is the first time the line makes him shiver.

Rowan eyes him like she noticed.

Sebastian sighs and realises his stomach has become very interested in the food lying between the pair. He approaches and takes a slice of pizza wordlessly, not even noticing its toppings or its taste for the first few bites. And then he's _starving_ , devouring it until his lips tingle from the brush of his flour-coated fingertips as he bites down on the last of the crust.

Rowan fills him a plate. “Sit down. Digest this properly.”

Sebastian regards her thoughtfully. “What are you anyway? Jim's..?”

It suddenly occurs to Seb that this young woman may be Jim's _daughter_ , bastard or otherwise. The thought unsettles Sebastian more than it perhaps should given his desire never to speak to Jim again.

“He's not my dad,” Rowan says as though she can read the tortured expressions diving across Sebastian's worn face. It takes him two more slices of pizza to realise she didn't really answer the question.

“Are you alright?” Jasper asks.

Sebastian looks down and wonders whether to lie or not.

“You want me to kick him out?” Jasper asks. He straightens his back and his handsome eyes light with an eerily mature expression. Sebastian cannot help but stare as his baby brother seems to grow up before his eyes as Jasper insists in a low voice, “Because if you don't want that guy here, Seb, I will make him go.”

Rowan looks away and awkwardly picks up a colourful CD case. Blue October. She fidgets with the square as she visibly wonders how to explain just how deadly Jim is to the soft, well-meaning young man Sebastian's parents inexplicably managed to raise.

“I will, you know,” says a soft voice that startles the room. Jim turns down the music and approaches slowly. “If you want me to go, Seb… I will.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Yes, you _will_ leave,” Jasper tells Jim before Sebastian can respond. It startles Seb to see his baby brother stalk broadshouldered towards the not-dead consulting criminal and tower over Jim threateningly.

Jim is surprised for other reasons entirely. Whether Jasper has grown into a tall, deep-voiced young man with large hands and slim hips that regularly capture Rowan's gaze is inconsequential to him. He has no memory of the little mop of dark, curly hair toddling around Sebastian's knees and looking up with eerily calm eyes too big for even a child's face.

Instead Jim's own dark eyes widen in astonishment because no one ever tells him what to do, except Sebastian, and whilst the Moran brothers share a father they share very few similarities. Jasper is tall and slim and has large, doe-like eyes with sooty lashes and a bob of dark-chocolate curls that obscure them. The low strands of the young man's bangs graze cheekbones that could cut young Rowan's tongue if she doesn't keep her lips to herself.

In contrast Sebastian is shorn-headed and his surviving hair is the dull colour that remains of grown little blond British boys' bright crowns. Sebastian's tan and even his scars have faded, and under his clothing perhaps his old tattoos have paled too. Seb is broad all through his arms and chest and neck, and although he's not nearly so heavily muscular as he was ...before, Sebastian is still an entirely different shape from his whiplike, semi-adrogynous younger brother.

Jasper is young and fresh, brimming with hormones and bristling with protective anger. Sebastian looks a little shell-shocked and Jim doesn't think he's ever seen his tiger wear that expression before, even after any of their _firsts_ , because whilst Seb was certainly surprised to get close to his employer over the years he at least enjoyed those surprises.

Sebastian himself is a first of Jim's own: never has the consulting criminal met a man like Sebastian Moran. The skinny, young mophead hasn't earned the right to speak to Jim the way he had; Sebastian had years of earning the chance to be familiar and frank. Sebastian had earned Jim's trust.

Jasper…

Jasper is defensive of his brother, whom Jim hurt, and _terribly_ deeply.

Jim swallows and notes that Sebastian does not say a word in favour of him leaving or staying. Behind the brothers Rowan waits poised and Jim can tell from her near-expressionless face that she's uneasy. She avoids his eyes as though they might betray her more than her tense gait and watches intently for further trouble instead.

Poor girl. Jim had sent her here on a boring babysitting job and she'd fallen for the youngest 'legitimate' Moran. The boy must be more like Sebastian than Jim had noticed, because Rowan is not that sort of young woman.

Morans are unusual creatures.

Rowan is giving Sebastian a protective look as well. She is oddly fond of him considering the mess Seb had made of her nose.

“You missed him, right?” Rowan asks.

“Of course,” Jim says at the exact moment Sebastian snorts, “No.”

Jim looks at the blond sharply.

“Fuck you,” Sebastian says shortly. “I don't care if you've seen me crying; I don't miss you.”

Jim feels the world spin but keeps his feet firmly planted on the expensive flooring. “I missed you,” Jim repeats even though he doesn't ever say such things.

“Then you shouldn't have left,” Jasper bites.

Sebastian nods. “You had no business leaving me behind.”

There is a lull as Sebastian and Jim look at each other uneasily. Jim is not used to being spoken to thus and whilst he has an excuse on his tongue he can tell Seb is not interested in hearing it. This is not a situation either of them is prepared for. 

The shuffled background music fades as one song ends and abruptly rises for the next. 'Testing, testing, I'm just suggesting… You and I might not be the best thing-'

Jim turns and glares at it. Rowan quickly reaches over to change the song but Jasper shakes his head at her and she obeys his request instead. The action does not go unnoticed.

Sebastian closes his eyes and listens to the familiar music. He takes a deep, rallying breath, and another.

Jim presses his lips together. He hesitates for a beat before licking his lips agitatedly and saying, “Sweetheart, this music is chronic.”

Sebastian opens his pale eyes at one and narrows them in Jim's direction, responding, “ _You_ thought it was a perfectly good idea to let me grieve you. Given your terrible judgement you do not get to comment on my music tastes ever again.”

Jim gapes at Sebastian then crinkles his nose at the other two. “What have you done to him? He-”

“Never mind what they've done to me,” Sebastian snaps. “Expanding my taste in young, emotive, catchy music does not ever come anywhere close to what you have done to me, James Moriarty.”

Jim grimaces. “I-”

“It's not about you!” Seb snarls. “You just left me, with no clue-”

“I did leave a clue,” Jim sniffs.

“Rowan's cheekbones don't count,” Sebastian responds. Behind him, she ducks her gaze uncomfortably.

“I fulfilled my promise,” Jim retorts.

“You _what_?” Seb interrupts.

Jim sweeps out his arms. “You think that old bastard was going to croak without help?”

Rowan gives Jasper a very concerned and guilty look, but he does not respond with pain to the admission that his father's death was indeed orchestrated. He shrugs. “Took your sweet time about it,” he mutters.

Sebastian turns and looks at his younger brother. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Jasper nods. “For reals. I've got you, and there's Ro… S'fine.”

“Really, Porcelain?” Rowan asks softly.

Jim bristles at being ill attended. As the young pair murmur to each other Jim juts his chin up at Sebastian. “A thank you would be sufficient.”

Sebastian's brows sky rocket and he chortles mirthlessly. “I'll be elsewhere if you need me,” he declares and strides out of the room.

Jim follows with a scowl. “Oh no you don't. Seb! _Sebastian_!”

The blond keeps walking.

Jim trots after the taller man. “Sebastian, I… I didn't mean...”

“Shh,” says Seb. He settles before one of the pianos and waits for Jim to join him.

Jim catches up and pauses to drink in the rare sight of Sebastian cracking his knuckles to play music. Jim slips in beside the blond.

Sebastian moves to occupy one half of the keys but other than that does not acknowledges Jim's existence.

The brunet eyes Sebastian almost helplessly and tries not to drink in the achingly familiar scent of him. “I don't know this one,” Jim says.

Sebastian uses one hand to guide Jim's fingers. “Maybe you should follow me for once.”

Jim swallows. “I can play to your tune,” he says softly.

Seb glances skeptically at the brunet. “I doubt that, but you start being completely frank with me or you're gone.”

Jim begins to frown but stops and instead agrees. “Fine.”

Sebastian's voice drops colder and his hands still on the piano keys. “I mean it. You can walk out of here right now and that's the end, or you can choose to stay. If you stay and ever come close to fucking me over ever again I'm going to take your fucking Beretta and empty it into your head. Got that?”

Jim's lip curls. “Wouldn't that give you something to cry about?”

“You're already dead to me, Kitten. Doesn't make any difference whether it's by your hand or mine,” Seb growls.

“This is insubordination-”

“I'm not your employee anymore, Jim!” Sebastian bellows.

Jim cringes at the noise and scowls at both himself for doing so and Seb for provoking it. “I'm not scolding you,” the brunet says. “I was just going to say that it's not what I'm used to. If you want… a more equal partnership… it's going to take some getting used to.”

Sebastian is quiet for a beat. He looks over Jim and the way the smaller man licks his thin, dry lips nervously.

“Are you staying or going?” Sebastian asks bluntly.

“...Do I have to listen to your new taste in music?” Jim asks.

Seb's face turns thunderous.

“Christ, I'm joking!” Jim exclaims. “Of course I'm staying, Tiger.”

Sebastian's expression changes and he eyes the other man up. “You're small, but I don't think we'll both fit in my single bed.”

Jim's eyebrows raise. “We're staying here?”

Sebastian swallows. “I don't know if I want to be alone with you yet.”

Jim uncharacteristically takes Sebastian's wrist and squeezes it. “I guess I better learn to get along with your little brother then.”

Seb gives a hoarse, unpractised chuckle.

Jim gives a shy smile and pulls out his phone. “If I buy us a bed, can we lie in it?”

Sebastian stiffly pulls the smaller man close and kisses the top of Jim's head (very carefully not looking at the back where the bullet hole was supposed to be). “You're sleeping on the floor until it gets delivered.”

Jim lets out a small noise of resigned dissent.

Seb nudges the man's warm skull with his shaggy jaw. “You're already dead, what can you do about it?”

Jim turns and tucks his head into the curve of Sebastian's neck. “I can haunt you,” says the brunet.

Sebastian closes the lid of the piano and pushes back to make room. He pulls Jim's slight weight onto his lap and is glad of the sharp dig of warm bones. “I can live with your ghost,” Seb says.

Jim hums 'Who Do You Love?' under his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> All lyrics belong to Marianas Trench, and all except 'Fallout' can be found on the 'Masterpiece Theatre' album.
> 
> Fallout - Marianas Trench  
> Obnoxious pop song - I was picturing 'Heathens' by 21 Pilots, which isn't really fair to the song.  
> Masterpiece Theatre 1 - Marianas Trench  
> All To Myself - Marianas Trench


End file.
